Mastertank1
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The Conquistador's Indian Princess M/F rated XXX a Mastertank1 Hysterical Historical
The Conquistador’s Indian Princess
By Mastertank1
The character of Princess Ishyaboo of the Arawak is inspired by and based upon Ishieboo of the TMF. The character of Esteban De Oquendo is loosely based on me.
Esteban de Oquendo was the second son of a family of minor nobility who had become fantastically wealthy due to intelligent entrepreneurial enterprise. So wealthy that even the second son’s share allowed him to bribe his way to a royal patent allowing him to take over the lands of the Arawak tribe on the northern coast of the Caribbean island of Hispaniola.
He had read and heard many good things about the richness of the land, but that was not why he purchased control of the lands of the Arawak. What made him choose them was what he had heard about the comeliness of their women.
He intended to take one or more of those beauties for his own private toy.
You see, Esteban had an obsessive fetish. It was fetish he could not get away with among the highly Catholic surroundings in Spain. It was a fetish for binding young women so that they were utterly helpless, and then tickling them till they seemed in danger of losing their minds.
He had tried it exactly twice, and gotten in serious trouble both times. In New Spain across the broad Atlantic, in a semi autonomous royal grant where he would be the highest authority under the distant governor, he knew he could indulge himself to his heart’s content. Indulge with native Indian lovelies whose people had no standing to complain to any Spanish official.
If some busybody priest complained to the governor, the only authority that man would have over Esteban would be to remove him entirely. From all he had heard and read, Esteban knew damned well that would never happen over abuse of the natives. Not even if the abuse were far more severe than anything he was planning to allow in his domain.
Don Esteban was a handsome, imposing young man. At age 24, he was a veteran of 9 years as an officer in the armies of Spain. He had led units of the ‘Iron Tercias of Holy Hispania’ against Protestant rebels in the Low Countries of Flanders and Holland, part of the mighty Catholic army of Don Juan of Austria.
Don Esteban proudly bore his battle scars, all on the front of his person. One of these, running across his left cheek from just under the left corner of his mouth to just above his left ear, gave his handsome face a false look of sneering ferocity. It also put a streak of premature white in his bristling brown beard.
Esteban stood 5’11”, extremely tall for a man of his time. Despite this great height, he was built so massively as to appear stocky. His musculature was startlingly heavy for a man of his class.
While most Spanish officers relied on the straight broadsword and Cinqueda dagger in battle, Esteban had chosen to wield the 30 foot pike with the men that he led. He had worked with the armsmasters until he could swing and finesse with the huge, 40 pound weapon as though it were a mere straw, instead of the tough oak and steel it was crafted in.
His thick hair hung down to his collar in back was trimmed on the sides to leave the ears bare for hearing in battle. His eyes were the same shade of brown as his hair and beard.
Don Esteban purchased 5 ships of middling size to carry his expedition. He joined the fleet that would sail under the command of Cristoforo Colombo, Admiral of the Ocean Sea by appointment of their Most Catholic Majesties, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. This was the admiral’s third expedition to what he now knew was a whole new continent, not the outer isles of Asia.
Arriving in the West Indies, Don Esteban did not bother sailing to the Admiral’s capital on the big island of Cuba before taking his leave. His 5 ships peeled off to the colony called Fortaleza Des Santos, or Fort of the Saints, on the north coast of the island of Hispaniola.
What Don Esteban found there forced him to change his plans. In disgust, he tore down the pitiful excuse for a fort he found standing there. He bundled the slovenly garrison he found onto one of his ships and sent them to Admiral Colombo to find some employment for.
Esteban’s personal army was made up 600 veterans, 100 of them cavalry. These men had marched behind him through the lowland wars, and would cheerfully follow him, as they all said, if he were to decide to storm the gates of hell.
Under his skilled supervision, they quarried great blocks of limestone from the inland mountains and used them to construct a real fort. This fort could have stood off a European army with artillery, let alone natives.
Wary of Spaniards because of the way the earlier garrison had behaved, the native Arawak tried to avoid the new troops. The first time some of them failed to do so, they received a pleasant surprise. When they were brought before Don Esteban, instead of ordering them to be chained and put to work, he spoke to them politely, offered them paid employment, and sent them home with gifts.
A few days later, several young men of the Arawak came to see what kind of work and what the pay was. They were gratified when they were asked to do only the same work the white men were doing, and paid in manufactured trade goods. These goods, such as knives and needles, mirrors and glass beads, were very cheap to the Spaniards, but extremely valuable to the Arawak, who had no way to make such things for themselves.
Through his interpreters, Esteban let it be known that his men needed women, that they would take only one each, and that they would be treated with respect. Arawak women came to see, cautiously. They were very surprised to find that were indeed treated respectfully.
Esteban’s veterans knew well that their beloved leader would not countenance any mistreatment of women by men under his command, even in the occupation of a surrendered city. The only exceptions he had ever allowed were during the sack of defended enemy town taken by storm. He knew enough not to issue commands that would simply be ignored anyway.
It took a year to build the fort and the town inside, and by that time the only man in the colony who had not taken a woman to live with was Esteban. The Arawak women had found the fit and powerful men with the oddly gentle manner with women fascinating. They were very amused, when the men stripped down to go to bed, by the extreme contrast between the deep tans on the men’s faces, hands and arms and the pale skin that had been covered by clothing.
He had traded with the Arawak for the rich products of their forests, hills and mountains, and had sent 20 shiploads of expensive goods back to Spain. Even after paying the royal taxes, the cost of obtaining the royal patent and outfitting the expedition had been made back 5 times over.
Unlike the outposts of most other Conquistadors, Don Esteban’s town and fort were kept pristinely clean. The buildings and ships were maintained so meticulously that the latter were in better condition now than when Esteban had purchased them.
Even the men were far cleaner than most Europeans of those days. This was because Don Esteban considered swimming a military skill. He required every man to swim a mile every day, in either the sea or a river or lake. Don Esteban himself, to set a proper example, swam 3 miles each day.
On the anniversary of his arrival, Don Esteban sent out invitations to the chiefs and headmen of all the towns and villages in his domain. He would hold a feast in celebration of their valued friendship to himself and his men.
At the climax of the feast, the chiefs were happily astonished when Don Esteban addressed them all in a speech in their own language, pronounced perfectly and without detectable accent. After extolling the virtues of the Arawak’s products and workers, and lauding the beauty of their women, Don Esteban announced that, beginning tomorrow, he would make a tour of his land grant.
He would visit every village and town in his territory. He would seek additional opportunities for trade, and projects his men could build that would benefit all. He would also, Don Esteban said, be seeking a woman to make his own.
At that last all the chiefs and headmen nodded to each other in satisfaction. They had begun to wonder why he alone of his troop remained womanless. Some had speculated that he would demand a boy, which they would have had to resist.
The local high chief said to his colleagues; “A good chief always takes care of the needs of his people first. Only then does he look to his own needs. The big scarred and hairy face (the Arawak name for Don Esteban) is a GOOD chief!”
Don Esteban began his inspection tour in the west of his granted lands, swung around to the south and then up to the east. In each town and village, he was feasted by the local chief or headman. While he conversed with the native leaders as if they were equals, his men scouted around.
Each morning, Esteban’s men would report to him, telling him if they had found any local resources the natives seemed not to be exploiting. They always found something. When they did, Esteban would explain to the local leader how much he would pay for what quantity of whatever it was.
If the local said the pay wasn’t worth the labor involved, Esteban would discuss methods. He would offer to have his men show the natives new ways to gain the desired products with less labor.
If all the new sources of wealth, all the products of field, stream, forest, hill, mountain and seashore, were developed and traded for, the wealth derived from this land grant each year would be tripled. Don Esteban had already gained twice as much from his grant in one year than any other Spanish grantee had done.
Perhaps more importantly, at least from Don Esteban’s viewpoint, he had accomplished all this without enslaving, murdering, robbing and raping the natives. Every other conquistador had done all those evil things to the natives, but not Don Esteban or any of his men.
Equally vital, the missionaries who converted the natives from their own religions to Christianity by violence and torture were not operating at all within Don Esteban’s grant. Neither was the Holy Inquisition.
Don Esteban was no more able to oppose them openly than any other Spanish subject could. But, Esteban’s men, who loved him, saw to it that every missionary, every inquisitor, every friar and priest who came out there from the central towns, had a fatal accident. The jungles, after all, were very dangerous places to walk unescorted.
Everything went well until Don Esteban arrived at the largest town in his eastern lands. Among the many native women serving at the feast, almost all of whom were brazenly displaying themselves to him in the hope of being chosen, was one who was nearly hiding.
This was the Princess Ishyaboo, eldest daughter of the local chief. Even though she tried to remain in the background, to Esteban’s eye her full, womanly curves made her stand out like a diamond in a tray of salt crystals.
Esteban’s gaze followed Ishyaboo wherever she went. Her 5’7” height made her easy to track, standing nearly half a head taller then the other maidens.
Eventually, he got up and followed her. Esteban stood in her path, blocking her way as she tried to withdraw between huts to the cooking area. He reached out his hands, and gently stroked and fingered her long, glossy black hair, noting the blue highlights revealed by the firelight.
He drank in her lush curves, frankly admiring her broad hips, round belly, strong legs and arms. He was enthralled by the large, perfectly roundness of her breasts. His hands caressed the perfect smoothness of her flawless, red/brown skin.
As Ishyaboo stood, flushing with embarrassment, as Esteban stooped to examine her ankles, then lifted her feet one by one, slipping the moccasins off. Esteban feasted his eyes on her cute, round little toes, wide, supple soles and high arches.
When the mesmerized nobleman allowed the tips of his fingers to glide along one arch, Ishyaboo loudly giggled. Esteban’s eyes lit up, and he did it again, for a longer few seconds. This time, the Arawak beauty laughed out loud.
Awakening as if from a trance, Esteban let her go. While Ishyaboo nervously put her feet back into her moccasins he returned to his seat next to her father.
Pointing her out to the chief, Don Esteban asked who she was, and was told; “My eldest daughter, the pride of our tribe. She was born under the most auspicious of signs. She is the greatest healing woman on the whole island.”
Don Esteban replied; “She is the one. I have chosen her. She must be mine.”
Ishyaboo’s father frowned. On the one hand, it would be a great honor for his daughter to become the chosen woman of the great overlord who had so impressed all the Arawak.
Esteban’s reputation for fair dealing with the natives, for keeping his men in check, for treating them all with the respect due to their various ranks, had gained him immense prestige. Providing his woman would allow the town to share in that prestige.
On the other hand, many other chiefs had sought Ishyaboo’s hand for their sons or for themselves. Having the island’s greatest healer resident among them would increase the perceived military potential of any town in the eyes of all the others. Any or all of those chiefs might be angry.
Needing time to think, the perplexed father said; “No. Not now. Time, more time is needed.”
“Why? She seems of age! How many years has she?”
“Twenty. Not that. Not yet. Need time. Go now! You, go!”
He meant to say he needed time to think, but was so flustered he never got the word out. By now all present were staring.
Don Esteban stood, clearly angry. He bellowed in Spanish, so his men would know he meant them. “Basta! (Enough!) Vamonos! (Let’s go!) Devuelvos al Fortaleza! (We return to the fort!) Ahora mismo! (Right now!).”
By his tone of voice, Esteban’s men knew that something was wrong. They all broke off whatever they were doing and rallied to their commander.
Without further orders they formed up in squares, weapons ready, and as the sun set they marched off towards the fort. As soon as they were out of sight of the town, and the sun had vanished behind the western hills, Don Esteban called a halt. He also called for his scouts.
Long after nightfall, Esteban and his scouts returned to the town. They had circled around to approach from the east, where they reasoned no one would be looking for them.
Ishyaboo lay sleepless in her bed. The gentle power she had felt in Esteban’s hands had excited her, even more so when he tickled her, making her laugh. It was strange.
The last time anyone tickled her, Ishyaboo had been but a child. Back then, it had not caused the strange excitement that thrilled through her body when Esteban forced her to laugh out loud. It puzzled her. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Suddenly her closed eyes opened wide. A huge hand was clamped across her mouth. A massive arm was lifting her solidly female form with breathtaking ease. Within seconds she had been swiftly and expertly bound. She was carried with ease in the arms o a mighty man, clasped to a massive chest. When she felt the soft beard brush the flesh of her bare arm, she knew it could only be Esteban. She gasped around her cloth gag. He was kidnapping her!
As Esteban carried her swiftly through the night, Ishyaboo marveled at the sheer strength of the man. She was well aware of the fact that she was a big woman. Her feminine, sexily curved form weighed as much as that of a healthy, well fed hunter, or perhaps a bit more. And yet Esteban moved through the night, holding her clasped in his arms, as though she weighed nothing at all!
As the miles fell away, he showed no sign of tiring. Shortly after midnight, Esteban and his quartet of scouts caught up with the other forty men of his column. Rather than stopping, the larger column stepped up it’s pace and the entire assemblage sped through the hours of darkness.
The sun was just starting to lighten the gloom of the eastern sky when the walls of Esteban’s stone fortress loomed across the expanse of farmed fields the Spaniards had cleared of trees and brush. Ishyaboo had fallen asleep in his arms, lulled by the steady rocking motion as he ran, the rise and fall of his deep, massive chest as he deeply but easily breathed.
The strength and endurance displayed by such men was as alien to the Arawak as the steel shirts they wore or the steel swords the carried. As alien as the horses they sometimes rode and the noisy, terrifying guns they hunted and killed with.
There was no element in Arawak society to compel people to the extremes of labor that led to such endurance. No Arawak would sacrifice their body to labor for a faith which transcended the importance of the faithful, nor for a King or a Nation which counted for more than the subjects or citizens.
Esteban and his men were veterans, accustomed to marching or drilling or sparring for twelve hours each day, while bearing a load of armor and weapons equal to half their own body weight. The heavy armor was stowed on packhorses, the long unwieldy forty pound pikes left behind as useless in the forest. Thus unencumbered, it was nothing for such men to keep up a steady, distance devouring trot for eight or ten hours.
Ishyaboo awoke when Esteban suddenly stopped. She could feel the heat of his exertions radiating from his body, warming her against the morning chill. She felt his chest expand vastly as he took in a huge breath. Then he bellowed, at volume so great it made her flinch; “Halloo the fort!”
A sentry atop the gate tower yelled back; “Don Esteban? Is that you?”
Esteban grinned apologetically down at Ishyaboo. Holding her up now in one arm, which amazed her all over again, He pressed her right ear against his chest while covering her left ear with his free hand. He bellowed back; “Who else would dare to look this ugly, this early in the morning? Send out the ready patrol! We may be pursued”
Within less than a minute the gates had swung open and a twenty four man troop of cavalry came out at a gallop. As Esteban’s column proceeded at a more leisured pace, the horsemen thundered past. They reined in and took up guard positions between the men on foot and the forest, the smoke from the lit strands of slowmatch in their matchlock pistols rising lazily skyward.
Esteban carried her in through the wide open gate to the cheers of his men. There were some raised eyebrows at the bindings on Ishyaboo’s wrists and ankles, but none of his men would ever think to question anything Esteban did.
Taking reports and approving them without pausing, Esteban carried Ishyaboo through the interior of the fort, down streets of neat buildings made of logs, planks and stone. There were two small streams of clear water running through the grounds of the fort, both of them originating in springs which rose from the earth within the walls. Those springs were the reason the fort stood where it did.
Esteban’s personal residence, the grandest structure inside the fort, was built over one of the springs. Ishyaboo had been impressed with the eighteen foot high outer walls of the fort. Now, gazing up at the sixty foot tower that topped Esteban’s house, she was astonished. She started to wonder if this man who carried her in his arms, still showing no sign of fatigue, was actually some kind of God.
Attentive men at arms opened the doors as Esteban approached, and equally vigilant servants continued to open each door as he approached. He took Ishyaboo directly to his private rooms.
Once in the privacy of his sleeping chamber, Esteban swiftly removed Ishyaboo’s sleep garment of light, loosely woven cloth. As she looked on with rapt attention, he disrobed completely himself.
Ishyaboo liked what she saw, a powerful, clean limbed, massive bear of a man. Like anyone of her tribe would, she respected the webwork of scars on his chest, belly, and limbs, and was glad that there was only one on his face, and that it did not disfigure him. She noted with approval that all were on the front of him, none on the back. This was a brave warrior who faced his foes. But, she reflected, she would have guessed that from his general demeanor.
Ishyaboo was not really angry with Esteban. There was a tradition of bride stealing among her people. What he did now, and how he did it, would determine the question of whether or not there was any offense to be taken.
What he did came as a surprise, but did not offend her. There was a pool of warm water, tapped from the flow of the spring, in his bedchamber. It flowed constantly in and out, never stagnating. Esteban lifted her up in his arms again.
This time, the fully awake Ishyaboo fully enjoyed the sensation, admiring his power. Then he stepped into the pool, down a series of steps in the stone side.
The water came up to his chest, and he held her so it came to her chin.
Esteban told Ishyaboo to take a deep breath and hold it, and then bent his legs plunging both of their heads under the surface. He came back up, shaking his head, drops scattering widely from his hair.
Esteban lowered Ishyaboo’s feet to the stone bottom of the pool. Holding her against himself with his left arm, he lifted handfuls of water and poured them over her head, rinsing her long jet black hair. She pressed her right side against his front, gratified by the growing evidence that he found her attractive.
Ishyaboo had feared that he wanted her only as a healer, as so many of her suitors had. She was pleased to find that he wanted her as a woman.
After ducking and shaking off his own head again, and after chewing a bit of pine gum to freshen his breath, Esteban kissed Ishyaboo for the first time. He kissed her both thoroughly and well, and she instantly responded by kissing back. Briefly, she wondered if he might be some kind of water spirit, who would take her here in his natural element.
Esteban lifted her again, went up the stairs and stood her on the carpet. He took a bolt of soft, thick cloth and began drying both of them . When he finished, Ishyaboo lifted her bound hands and looked at them pointedly.
Esteban grinned, and he lifted Ishyaboo’s bound hands over her head till she was standing on tiptoes, and hooked the strands between her wrists over a hook on the wall. He adjusted the hook so she was not dangling, but had to stand on tiptoes.
This development alarmed Ishyaboo, but Esteban’s gently amused smile reassured her. Then he began gently running the tips of his fingers up and down her sexy, curvy sides.
Ishyaboo burst into laughter. He was tickling her! No one had tickled her since early childhood. Then she had liked how it felt to be tickled, but now it was turning her on as it never had then!
Ishyaboo hung there enjoying her helplessness, happily laughing. She wiggled and squirmed in delight. This was great fun, and she knew it would lead to sex.
There had been times she had wished to be rid of her healer’s gift because it kept her a virgin. At last, she thought, I will lie with a lover! The gleeful grin on Esteban’s handsome face assured that her this would be true.
Esteban drank in Ishyaboo’s happy response to his tickling. The sound of her laughter was sweeter than a finely tuned carillon of church bells. Gently grasping her ribcage, he started to squeeze softly. Ishyaboo’s laughter changed pitch, but went on unabated.
Esteban happily explored the delightful ticklishness of Ishyaboo’s fully curved upper body. She was ticklish, it seemed , almost everywhere. Her ribs, her sides, her belly, her breasts, her armpits, her waistline, her hips, her neck, her throat, and under her chin all produced very satisfactory giggles and chortles and burbles and laughs.
He began using his lips and his tongue as well as his fingers to tickle her. He discovered that the tip of his tongue produced truly spectacular jumping and writhing and happy squealing when applied to her delicate, intricate ear whorls, or to her bellybutton.
Her arousal was steadily growing, and clearly visible. Esteban was enrapt in the wonderful responsiveness of the defenseless, exquisitely ticklish beauty who dangled before him. Ishyaboo was happily lost in the flood of delicious, wickedly exciting sensations the tickling was causing to flood through her body.
He was standing directly in front of her when he reached down with both hands to tickle the undercurves of her buttocks. The sudden forward thrust of her hips, unexpected by both of them, almost caused her to impale herself on his rampant manhood.
The pair paused in startlement. They looked into each other’s eyes, and both gave a laugh that had nothing to do with tickling. Esteban told her; “Not yet, wanton woman. Not yet.” With a wide grin.
Then, abruptly, Esteban dropped to a crosslegged seated position on the floor. Reaching upward he tickled Ishyaboo’s sexy thighs, making her jump and giggle. Deliberately teasing the inner sides caused her visible arousal to steadily increase along with the volume and wildness of her happy giggles.
Ishyaboo was really enjoying herself. She could not recall ever before having had this much fun. Certainly not this much hot, sexy fun! Looking down she caught glimpses of Esteban’s male salute to her attractiveness, and eagerly anticipated feeling it more intimately.
Then he was tickling the backs of her knees. She burst out; “Wheeeeeeheehee heeheeheehee! Wheeheehee!” desperately trying to lift her feet up to her thighs to protect the tender knee hollows. Esteban grinned up at her wickedly.
Reaching through a slit in the carpet, Esteban pulled up a hinged hook and caught the strands of cord linking Ishyaboo’s ankles on it. Then he resumed softly teasing the backs of her knees.
Now Ishyaboo squealed helplessly, again and again and again. She was really enjoying how ticklish and helpless and out of control she felt, but gods, it was staring to get so intense! She closed her eyes, savoring the sweet torture.
Ishyaboo suddenly opened her eyes wide. WHAT was that wonderful feeling between her legs? Looking down, she saw the top of Esteban’s head, apparently trying to burrow it’s way into her crotch! After happily laughing and gleefully wiggling she realized, those were his lips and his tongue on her womanthing. That’s what was causing this glorious feeling!
Just as she realized this, Ishyaboo came laughing. The first orgasm she had ever been given by someone other than herself was taking place while she was dangling in bondage and wildly laughing from fingertips tickling the backs of her knees. This was better than anything she had ever imagined regarding sex!
It lasted so long, and it built to a peak of such intensity!
Esteban kept on deliciously, delicately nibbling and lickling her clit while his hands slowly tickled their way down from Ishyaboo’s knees, over her calves to linger maddeningly on her ankles. Ishyaboo came two more times before he pulled back and let her catch her breath.
As she slowly regained her composure Ishyaboo looked down to see Esteban’s handsome face gazing back up with a wickedly predatory grin. That grin seemed to say; “You are mine. Mine forever. Mine only, as long as life lasts. Mine!”
As she read his expression, Ishyaboo’s heart sang in her bosom. She thought joyfully; “Oh yes! Yours! I am yours! Yours forever, yours alone, only yours my strong warrior god!” She had never before in her life felt so utterly happy!
Regaining control of her breathing, she whispered; “I love you, my chief.”
Esteban grinned even wider. Ishyaboo suddenly noticed; all ten of his fingers were poised round the bottoms of her heels. Her defenselessly raised, helplessly vulnerable, wildly sensitive heels. She could read the intention in his eyes. Shaking her head in denial, she gasped out; “Oh! No! No no no please please please no!”
Esteban quietly answered; “Oh yes.”
All ten fingertips swept down her heels, along the flats of her soles to the balls of her feet and then back again. Over and over and over and over again. Ishyaboo laughed like a madwoman, desperately, futilely struggling to pull her unbearably ticklish feet away from those terrible, wonderful, maddeningly delightful fingertips.
When she pulled upward on her wristbonds, the most she could do was to lift her toes two or three inches up from the carpet. Whenever she did this, Esteban tickled the balls of her feet and the pads and stems of her toes. That made Ishyaboo hastily press her toes and the balls of her feet to the carpet again.
Each time she did, Esteban tickled the tips of her toes until she jerked them back up again. Ishyaboo kept getting more and more eager to climax again, Esteban kept getting hotter and hotter.
Finally, taking a slim dagger from the table near his bed and shaking the sheath off, Esteban sliced through the bonds on Ishyaboo’s wrists and ankles with two precise flicks of the blade. As the tired native beauty collapsed in his arms, Esteban effortlessly scooped her up and laid her on the bed.
The bed had a headboard, and the headboard had four wide straps of fine woven linen tied to its crossbars, two each to the upper and lower bars.
Esteban fastened Ishyaboo’s wrists to the lower bar, then tied her ankles to the upper. As tired as she was, Ishyaboo was happy. She felt her man enter her, felt the hard muscles of his flat groin press and rub so excitingly over and around her clit, felt his thick, heavy manhood touch and continue to excite her secret spot!
She was right on the edge when his fingertips started to stroke both her arches. It tickled so much! But it hit her at just the right time, as she started to cum.
To Ishyaboo it felt like the tickling amplified her orgasm, multiplying her pleasure beyond all possibility! She was laughing in helplessness, pleasure and joy, with her orgasm not yet subsided when another one hit, then a third and a fourth.
Then she felt Esteban cumming inside of her, roaring his pleasure with a volume that reverberated in the stone room. Ishyaboo’s physical pleasure was compounded by the soaring emotional joy of knowing that she was now giving her man pleasure in return for that which he was still giving her!
“Yes!” She thought; “Yes! Take me! Own me! Enjoy me! Love me, my man, my owner, my lover, my warrior god! I am yours!”
Esteban was utterly lost in the pleasure this beautiful woman was giving him. It had never occurred to him that he might find a woman who enjoyed being tickled as much as he enjoyed tickling her! Somehow, the fact that she loved what he did to her as much as he loved doing it only increased the pleasure it gave him. This was by far the best sex he had ever had!
Both lovers satisfied, Esteban unwrapped the cloths from her sweetly formed limbs and gathered her up against himself. Ishyaboo eagerly, happily cuddled until they both slept in happy exhaustion.
The next morning, Ishyaboo’s father, accompanied by all the fighting men of her town and it’s neighbors, stood outside the gate of the fort. Ishyaboo had told Esteban of the bride stealing customs of her people, and he had warned his men to take no hostile action.
Ishyaboo’s father called Esteban forth. The gates grandly opened, Revealing Esteban in the full glory of brightly colored, gold brocaded court regalia. He stood arms akimbo.
The native chief called out; “I have come here for my daughter!”
Esteban answered; “Your daughter is here, free to come or to go as she chooses!”
Ishyaboo appeared, dressed in a native ceremonial robe, from the left of the open gateway. She walked to Esteban’s side, swaying seductively. Taking his burly left arm in both hands, Ishyaboo pressed it against her front, between her breasts. She called out, loudly so all could hear; “I am his. He has made me his own. I am where I belong, at his side, and will stay here forever!”
Her father and brothers all threw down their weapons and rushed forward, making a massive group embrace.
End.
As always, comments and/or illustrations are welcome.
Mastertank1
We who play and dance are thought mad by they who hear no music.
The Conquistador’s Indian Princess
By Mastertank1
The character of Princess Ishyaboo of the Arawak is inspired by and based upon Ishieboo of the TMF. The character of Esteban De Oquendo is loosely based on me.
Esteban de Oquendo was the second son of a family of minor nobility who had become fantastically wealthy due to intelligent entrepreneurial enterprise. So wealthy that even the second son’s share allowed him to bribe his way to a royal patent allowing him to take over the lands of the Arawak tribe on the northern coast of the Caribbean island of Hispaniola.
He had read and heard many good things about the richness of the land, but that was not why he purchased control of the lands of the Arawak. What made him choose them was what he had heard about the comeliness of their women.
He intended to take one or more of those beauties for his own private toy.
You see, Esteban had an obsessive fetish. It was fetish he could not get away with among the highly Catholic surroundings in Spain. It was a fetish for binding young women so that they were utterly helpless, and then tickling them till they seemed in danger of losing their minds.
He had tried it exactly twice, and gotten in serious trouble both times. In New Spain across the broad Atlantic, in a semi autonomous royal grant where he would be the highest authority under the distant governor, he knew he could indulge himself to his heart’s content. Indulge with native Indian lovelies whose people had no standing to complain to any Spanish official.
If some busybody priest complained to the governor, the only authority that man would have over Esteban would be to remove him entirely. From all he had heard and read, Esteban knew damned well that would never happen over abuse of the natives. Not even if the abuse were far more severe than anything he was planning to allow in his domain.
Don Esteban was a handsome, imposing young man. At age 24, he was a veteran of 9 years as an officer in the armies of Spain. He had led units of the ‘Iron Tercias of Holy Hispania’ against Protestant rebels in the Low Countries of Flanders and Holland, part of the mighty Catholic army of Don Juan of Austria.
Don Esteban proudly bore his battle scars, all on the front of his person. One of these, running across his left cheek from just under the left corner of his mouth to just above his left ear, gave his handsome face a false look of sneering ferocity. It also put a streak of premature white in his bristling brown beard.
Esteban stood 5’11”, extremely tall for a man of his time. Despite this great height, he was built so massively as to appear stocky. His musculature was startlingly heavy for a man of his class.
While most Spanish officers relied on the straight broadsword and Cinqueda dagger in battle, Esteban had chosen to wield the 30 foot pike with the men that he led. He had worked with the armsmasters until he could swing and finesse with the huge, 40 pound weapon as though it were a mere straw, instead of the tough oak and steel it was crafted in.
His thick hair hung down to his collar in back was trimmed on the sides to leave the ears bare for hearing in battle. His eyes were the same shade of brown as his hair and beard.
Don Esteban purchased 5 ships of middling size to carry his expedition. He joined the fleet that would sail under the command of Cristoforo Colombo, Admiral of the Ocean Sea by appointment of their Most Catholic Majesties, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. This was the admiral’s third expedition to what he now knew was a whole new continent, not the outer isles of Asia.
Arriving in the West Indies, Don Esteban did not bother sailing to the Admiral’s capital on the big island of Cuba before taking his leave. His 5 ships peeled off to the colony called Fortaleza Des Santos, or Fort of the Saints, on the north coast of the island of Hispaniola.
What Don Esteban found there forced him to change his plans. In disgust, he tore down the pitiful excuse for a fort he found standing there. He bundled the slovenly garrison he found onto one of his ships and sent them to Admiral Colombo to find some employment for.
Esteban’s personal army was made up 600 veterans, 100 of them cavalry. These men had marched behind him through the lowland wars, and would cheerfully follow him, as they all said, if he were to decide to storm the gates of hell.
Under his skilled supervision, they quarried great blocks of limestone from the inland mountains and used them to construct a real fort. This fort could have stood off a European army with artillery, let alone natives.
Wary of Spaniards because of the way the earlier garrison had behaved, the native Arawak tried to avoid the new troops. The first time some of them failed to do so, they received a pleasant surprise. When they were brought before Don Esteban, instead of ordering them to be chained and put to work, he spoke to them politely, offered them paid employment, and sent them home with gifts.
A few days later, several young men of the Arawak came to see what kind of work and what the pay was. They were gratified when they were asked to do only the same work the white men were doing, and paid in manufactured trade goods. These goods, such as knives and needles, mirrors and glass beads, were very cheap to the Spaniards, but extremely valuable to the Arawak, who had no way to make such things for themselves.
Through his interpreters, Esteban let it be known that his men needed women, that they would take only one each, and that they would be treated with respect. Arawak women came to see, cautiously. They were very surprised to find that were indeed treated respectfully.
Esteban’s veterans knew well that their beloved leader would not countenance any mistreatment of women by men under his command, even in the occupation of a surrendered city. The only exceptions he had ever allowed were during the sack of defended enemy town taken by storm. He knew enough not to issue commands that would simply be ignored anyway.
It took a year to build the fort and the town inside, and by that time the only man in the colony who had not taken a woman to live with was Esteban. The Arawak women had found the fit and powerful men with the oddly gentle manner with women fascinating. They were very amused, when the men stripped down to go to bed, by the extreme contrast between the deep tans on the men’s faces, hands and arms and the pale skin that had been covered by clothing.
He had traded with the Arawak for the rich products of their forests, hills and mountains, and had sent 20 shiploads of expensive goods back to Spain. Even after paying the royal taxes, the cost of obtaining the royal patent and outfitting the expedition had been made back 5 times over.
Unlike the outposts of most other Conquistadors, Don Esteban’s town and fort were kept pristinely clean. The buildings and ships were maintained so meticulously that the latter were in better condition now than when Esteban had purchased them.
Even the men were far cleaner than most Europeans of those days. This was because Don Esteban considered swimming a military skill. He required every man to swim a mile every day, in either the sea or a river or lake. Don Esteban himself, to set a proper example, swam 3 miles each day.
On the anniversary of his arrival, Don Esteban sent out invitations to the chiefs and headmen of all the towns and villages in his domain. He would hold a feast in celebration of their valued friendship to himself and his men.
At the climax of the feast, the chiefs were happily astonished when Don Esteban addressed them all in a speech in their own language, pronounced perfectly and without detectable accent. After extolling the virtues of the Arawak’s products and workers, and lauding the beauty of their women, Don Esteban announced that, beginning tomorrow, he would make a tour of his land grant.
He would visit every village and town in his territory. He would seek additional opportunities for trade, and projects his men could build that would benefit all. He would also, Don Esteban said, be seeking a woman to make his own.
At that last all the chiefs and headmen nodded to each other in satisfaction. They had begun to wonder why he alone of his troop remained womanless. Some had speculated that he would demand a boy, which they would have had to resist.
The local high chief said to his colleagues; “A good chief always takes care of the needs of his people first. Only then does he look to his own needs. The big scarred and hairy face (the Arawak name for Don Esteban) is a GOOD chief!”
Don Esteban began his inspection tour in the west of his granted lands, swung around to the south and then up to the east. In each town and village, he was feasted by the local chief or headman. While he conversed with the native leaders as if they were equals, his men scouted around.
Each morning, Esteban’s men would report to him, telling him if they had found any local resources the natives seemed not to be exploiting. They always found something. When they did, Esteban would explain to the local leader how much he would pay for what quantity of whatever it was.
If the local said the pay wasn’t worth the labor involved, Esteban would discuss methods. He would offer to have his men show the natives new ways to gain the desired products with less labor.
If all the new sources of wealth, all the products of field, stream, forest, hill, mountain and seashore, were developed and traded for, the wealth derived from this land grant each year would be tripled. Don Esteban had already gained twice as much from his grant in one year than any other Spanish grantee had done.
Perhaps more importantly, at least from Don Esteban’s viewpoint, he had accomplished all this without enslaving, murdering, robbing and raping the natives. Every other conquistador had done all those evil things to the natives, but not Don Esteban or any of his men.
Equally vital, the missionaries who converted the natives from their own religions to Christianity by violence and torture were not operating at all within Don Esteban’s grant. Neither was the Holy Inquisition.
Don Esteban was no more able to oppose them openly than any other Spanish subject could. But, Esteban’s men, who loved him, saw to it that every missionary, every inquisitor, every friar and priest who came out there from the central towns, had a fatal accident. The jungles, after all, were very dangerous places to walk unescorted.
Everything went well until Don Esteban arrived at the largest town in his eastern lands. Among the many native women serving at the feast, almost all of whom were brazenly displaying themselves to him in the hope of being chosen, was one who was nearly hiding.
This was the Princess Ishyaboo, eldest daughter of the local chief. Even though she tried to remain in the background, to Esteban’s eye her full, womanly curves made her stand out like a diamond in a tray of salt crystals.
Esteban’s gaze followed Ishyaboo wherever she went. Her 5’7” height made her easy to track, standing nearly half a head taller then the other maidens.
Eventually, he got up and followed her. Esteban stood in her path, blocking her way as she tried to withdraw between huts to the cooking area. He reached out his hands, and gently stroked and fingered her long, glossy black hair, noting the blue highlights revealed by the firelight.
He drank in her lush curves, frankly admiring her broad hips, round belly, strong legs and arms. He was enthralled by the large, perfectly roundness of her breasts. His hands caressed the perfect smoothness of her flawless, red/brown skin.
As Ishyaboo stood, flushing with embarrassment, as Esteban stooped to examine her ankles, then lifted her feet one by one, slipping the moccasins off. Esteban feasted his eyes on her cute, round little toes, wide, supple soles and high arches.
When the mesmerized nobleman allowed the tips of his fingers to glide along one arch, Ishyaboo loudly giggled. Esteban’s eyes lit up, and he did it again, for a longer few seconds. This time, the Arawak beauty laughed out loud.
Awakening as if from a trance, Esteban let her go. While Ishyaboo nervously put her feet back into her moccasins he returned to his seat next to her father.
Pointing her out to the chief, Don Esteban asked who she was, and was told; “My eldest daughter, the pride of our tribe. She was born under the most auspicious of signs. She is the greatest healing woman on the whole island.”
Don Esteban replied; “She is the one. I have chosen her. She must be mine.”
Ishyaboo’s father frowned. On the one hand, it would be a great honor for his daughter to become the chosen woman of the great overlord who had so impressed all the Arawak.
Esteban’s reputation for fair dealing with the natives, for keeping his men in check, for treating them all with the respect due to their various ranks, had gained him immense prestige. Providing his woman would allow the town to share in that prestige.
On the other hand, many other chiefs had sought Ishyaboo’s hand for their sons or for themselves. Having the island’s greatest healer resident among them would increase the perceived military potential of any town in the eyes of all the others. Any or all of those chiefs might be angry.
Needing time to think, the perplexed father said; “No. Not now. Time, more time is needed.”
“Why? She seems of age! How many years has she?”
“Twenty. Not that. Not yet. Need time. Go now! You, go!”
He meant to say he needed time to think, but was so flustered he never got the word out. By now all present were staring.
Don Esteban stood, clearly angry. He bellowed in Spanish, so his men would know he meant them. “Basta! (Enough!) Vamonos! (Let’s go!) Devuelvos al Fortaleza! (We return to the fort!) Ahora mismo! (Right now!).”
By his tone of voice, Esteban’s men knew that something was wrong. They all broke off whatever they were doing and rallied to their commander.
Without further orders they formed up in squares, weapons ready, and as the sun set they marched off towards the fort. As soon as they were out of sight of the town, and the sun had vanished behind the western hills, Don Esteban called a halt. He also called for his scouts.
Long after nightfall, Esteban and his scouts returned to the town. They had circled around to approach from the east, where they reasoned no one would be looking for them.
Ishyaboo lay sleepless in her bed. The gentle power she had felt in Esteban’s hands had excited her, even more so when he tickled her, making her laugh. It was strange.
The last time anyone tickled her, Ishyaboo had been but a child. Back then, it had not caused the strange excitement that thrilled through her body when Esteban forced her to laugh out loud. It puzzled her. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Suddenly her closed eyes opened wide. A huge hand was clamped across her mouth. A massive arm was lifting her solidly female form with breathtaking ease. Within seconds she had been swiftly and expertly bound. She was carried with ease in the arms o a mighty man, clasped to a massive chest. When she felt the soft beard brush the flesh of her bare arm, she knew it could only be Esteban. She gasped around her cloth gag. He was kidnapping her!
As Esteban carried her swiftly through the night, Ishyaboo marveled at the sheer strength of the man. She was well aware of the fact that she was a big woman. Her feminine, sexily curved form weighed as much as that of a healthy, well fed hunter, or perhaps a bit more. And yet Esteban moved through the night, holding her clasped in his arms, as though she weighed nothing at all!
As the miles fell away, he showed no sign of tiring. Shortly after midnight, Esteban and his quartet of scouts caught up with the other forty men of his column. Rather than stopping, the larger column stepped up it’s pace and the entire assemblage sped through the hours of darkness.
The sun was just starting to lighten the gloom of the eastern sky when the walls of Esteban’s stone fortress loomed across the expanse of farmed fields the Spaniards had cleared of trees and brush. Ishyaboo had fallen asleep in his arms, lulled by the steady rocking motion as he ran, the rise and fall of his deep, massive chest as he deeply but easily breathed.
The strength and endurance displayed by such men was as alien to the Arawak as the steel shirts they wore or the steel swords the carried. As alien as the horses they sometimes rode and the noisy, terrifying guns they hunted and killed with.
There was no element in Arawak society to compel people to the extremes of labor that led to such endurance. No Arawak would sacrifice their body to labor for a faith which transcended the importance of the faithful, nor for a King or a Nation which counted for more than the subjects or citizens.
Esteban and his men were veterans, accustomed to marching or drilling or sparring for twelve hours each day, while bearing a load of armor and weapons equal to half their own body weight. The heavy armor was stowed on packhorses, the long unwieldy forty pound pikes left behind as useless in the forest. Thus unencumbered, it was nothing for such men to keep up a steady, distance devouring trot for eight or ten hours.
Ishyaboo awoke when Esteban suddenly stopped. She could feel the heat of his exertions radiating from his body, warming her against the morning chill. She felt his chest expand vastly as he took in a huge breath. Then he bellowed, at volume so great it made her flinch; “Halloo the fort!”
A sentry atop the gate tower yelled back; “Don Esteban? Is that you?”
Esteban grinned apologetically down at Ishyaboo. Holding her up now in one arm, which amazed her all over again, He pressed her right ear against his chest while covering her left ear with his free hand. He bellowed back; “Who else would dare to look this ugly, this early in the morning? Send out the ready patrol! We may be pursued”
Within less than a minute the gates had swung open and a twenty four man troop of cavalry came out at a gallop. As Esteban’s column proceeded at a more leisured pace, the horsemen thundered past. They reined in and took up guard positions between the men on foot and the forest, the smoke from the lit strands of slowmatch in their matchlock pistols rising lazily skyward.
Esteban carried her in through the wide open gate to the cheers of his men. There were some raised eyebrows at the bindings on Ishyaboo’s wrists and ankles, but none of his men would ever think to question anything Esteban did.
Taking reports and approving them without pausing, Esteban carried Ishyaboo through the interior of the fort, down streets of neat buildings made of logs, planks and stone. There were two small streams of clear water running through the grounds of the fort, both of them originating in springs which rose from the earth within the walls. Those springs were the reason the fort stood where it did.
Esteban’s personal residence, the grandest structure inside the fort, was built over one of the springs. Ishyaboo had been impressed with the eighteen foot high outer walls of the fort. Now, gazing up at the sixty foot tower that topped Esteban’s house, she was astonished. She started to wonder if this man who carried her in his arms, still showing no sign of fatigue, was actually some kind of God.
Attentive men at arms opened the doors as Esteban approached, and equally vigilant servants continued to open each door as he approached. He took Ishyaboo directly to his private rooms.
Once in the privacy of his sleeping chamber, Esteban swiftly removed Ishyaboo’s sleep garment of light, loosely woven cloth. As she looked on with rapt attention, he disrobed completely himself.
Ishyaboo liked what she saw, a powerful, clean limbed, massive bear of a man. Like anyone of her tribe would, she respected the webwork of scars on his chest, belly, and limbs, and was glad that there was only one on his face, and that it did not disfigure him. She noted with approval that all were on the front of him, none on the back. This was a brave warrior who faced his foes. But, she reflected, she would have guessed that from his general demeanor.
Ishyaboo was not really angry with Esteban. There was a tradition of bride stealing among her people. What he did now, and how he did it, would determine the question of whether or not there was any offense to be taken.
What he did came as a surprise, but did not offend her. There was a pool of warm water, tapped from the flow of the spring, in his bedchamber. It flowed constantly in and out, never stagnating. Esteban lifted her up in his arms again.
This time, the fully awake Ishyaboo fully enjoyed the sensation, admiring his power. Then he stepped into the pool, down a series of steps in the stone side.
The water came up to his chest, and he held her so it came to her chin.
Esteban told Ishyaboo to take a deep breath and hold it, and then bent his legs plunging both of their heads under the surface. He came back up, shaking his head, drops scattering widely from his hair.
Esteban lowered Ishyaboo’s feet to the stone bottom of the pool. Holding her against himself with his left arm, he lifted handfuls of water and poured them over her head, rinsing her long jet black hair. She pressed her right side against his front, gratified by the growing evidence that he found her attractive.
Ishyaboo had feared that he wanted her only as a healer, as so many of her suitors had. She was pleased to find that he wanted her as a woman.
After ducking and shaking off his own head again, and after chewing a bit of pine gum to freshen his breath, Esteban kissed Ishyaboo for the first time. He kissed her both thoroughly and well, and she instantly responded by kissing back. Briefly, she wondered if he might be some kind of water spirit, who would take her here in his natural element.
Esteban lifted her again, went up the stairs and stood her on the carpet. He took a bolt of soft, thick cloth and began drying both of them . When he finished, Ishyaboo lifted her bound hands and looked at them pointedly.
Esteban grinned, and he lifted Ishyaboo’s bound hands over her head till she was standing on tiptoes, and hooked the strands between her wrists over a hook on the wall. He adjusted the hook so she was not dangling, but had to stand on tiptoes.
This development alarmed Ishyaboo, but Esteban’s gently amused smile reassured her. Then he began gently running the tips of his fingers up and down her sexy, curvy sides.
Ishyaboo burst into laughter. He was tickling her! No one had tickled her since early childhood. Then she had liked how it felt to be tickled, but now it was turning her on as it never had then!
Ishyaboo hung there enjoying her helplessness, happily laughing. She wiggled and squirmed in delight. This was great fun, and she knew it would lead to sex.
There had been times she had wished to be rid of her healer’s gift because it kept her a virgin. At last, she thought, I will lie with a lover! The gleeful grin on Esteban’s handsome face assured that her this would be true.
Esteban drank in Ishyaboo’s happy response to his tickling. The sound of her laughter was sweeter than a finely tuned carillon of church bells. Gently grasping her ribcage, he started to squeeze softly. Ishyaboo’s laughter changed pitch, but went on unabated.
Esteban happily explored the delightful ticklishness of Ishyaboo’s fully curved upper body. She was ticklish, it seemed , almost everywhere. Her ribs, her sides, her belly, her breasts, her armpits, her waistline, her hips, her neck, her throat, and under her chin all produced very satisfactory giggles and chortles and burbles and laughs.
He began using his lips and his tongue as well as his fingers to tickle her. He discovered that the tip of his tongue produced truly spectacular jumping and writhing and happy squealing when applied to her delicate, intricate ear whorls, or to her bellybutton.
Her arousal was steadily growing, and clearly visible. Esteban was enrapt in the wonderful responsiveness of the defenseless, exquisitely ticklish beauty who dangled before him. Ishyaboo was happily lost in the flood of delicious, wickedly exciting sensations the tickling was causing to flood through her body.
He was standing directly in front of her when he reached down with both hands to tickle the undercurves of her buttocks. The sudden forward thrust of her hips, unexpected by both of them, almost caused her to impale herself on his rampant manhood.
The pair paused in startlement. They looked into each other’s eyes, and both gave a laugh that had nothing to do with tickling. Esteban told her; “Not yet, wanton woman. Not yet.” With a wide grin.
Then, abruptly, Esteban dropped to a crosslegged seated position on the floor. Reaching upward he tickled Ishyaboo’s sexy thighs, making her jump and giggle. Deliberately teasing the inner sides caused her visible arousal to steadily increase along with the volume and wildness of her happy giggles.
Ishyaboo was really enjoying herself. She could not recall ever before having had this much fun. Certainly not this much hot, sexy fun! Looking down she caught glimpses of Esteban’s male salute to her attractiveness, and eagerly anticipated feeling it more intimately.
Then he was tickling the backs of her knees. She burst out; “Wheeeeeeheehee heeheeheehee! Wheeheehee!” desperately trying to lift her feet up to her thighs to protect the tender knee hollows. Esteban grinned up at her wickedly.
Reaching through a slit in the carpet, Esteban pulled up a hinged hook and caught the strands of cord linking Ishyaboo’s ankles on it. Then he resumed softly teasing the backs of her knees.
Now Ishyaboo squealed helplessly, again and again and again. She was really enjoying how ticklish and helpless and out of control she felt, but gods, it was staring to get so intense! She closed her eyes, savoring the sweet torture.
Ishyaboo suddenly opened her eyes wide. WHAT was that wonderful feeling between her legs? Looking down, she saw the top of Esteban’s head, apparently trying to burrow it’s way into her crotch! After happily laughing and gleefully wiggling she realized, those were his lips and his tongue on her womanthing. That’s what was causing this glorious feeling!
Just as she realized this, Ishyaboo came laughing. The first orgasm she had ever been given by someone other than herself was taking place while she was dangling in bondage and wildly laughing from fingertips tickling the backs of her knees. This was better than anything she had ever imagined regarding sex!
It lasted so long, and it built to a peak of such intensity!
Esteban kept on deliciously, delicately nibbling and lickling her clit while his hands slowly tickled their way down from Ishyaboo’s knees, over her calves to linger maddeningly on her ankles. Ishyaboo came two more times before he pulled back and let her catch her breath.
As she slowly regained her composure Ishyaboo looked down to see Esteban’s handsome face gazing back up with a wickedly predatory grin. That grin seemed to say; “You are mine. Mine forever. Mine only, as long as life lasts. Mine!”
As she read his expression, Ishyaboo’s heart sang in her bosom. She thought joyfully; “Oh yes! Yours! I am yours! Yours forever, yours alone, only yours my strong warrior god!” She had never before in her life felt so utterly happy!
Regaining control of her breathing, she whispered; “I love you, my chief.”
Esteban grinned even wider. Ishyaboo suddenly noticed; all ten of his fingers were poised round the bottoms of her heels. Her defenselessly raised, helplessly vulnerable, wildly sensitive heels. She could read the intention in his eyes. Shaking her head in denial, she gasped out; “Oh! No! No no no please please please no!”
Esteban quietly answered; “Oh yes.”
All ten fingertips swept down her heels, along the flats of her soles to the balls of her feet and then back again. Over and over and over and over again. Ishyaboo laughed like a madwoman, desperately, futilely struggling to pull her unbearably ticklish feet away from those terrible, wonderful, maddeningly delightful fingertips.
When she pulled upward on her wristbonds, the most she could do was to lift her toes two or three inches up from the carpet. Whenever she did this, Esteban tickled the balls of her feet and the pads and stems of her toes. That made Ishyaboo hastily press her toes and the balls of her feet to the carpet again.
Each time she did, Esteban tickled the tips of her toes until she jerked them back up again. Ishyaboo kept getting more and more eager to climax again, Esteban kept getting hotter and hotter.
Finally, taking a slim dagger from the table near his bed and shaking the sheath off, Esteban sliced through the bonds on Ishyaboo’s wrists and ankles with two precise flicks of the blade. As the tired native beauty collapsed in his arms, Esteban effortlessly scooped her up and laid her on the bed.
The bed had a headboard, and the headboard had four wide straps of fine woven linen tied to its crossbars, two each to the upper and lower bars.
Esteban fastened Ishyaboo’s wrists to the lower bar, then tied her ankles to the upper. As tired as she was, Ishyaboo was happy. She felt her man enter her, felt the hard muscles of his flat groin press and rub so excitingly over and around her clit, felt his thick, heavy manhood touch and continue to excite her secret spot!
She was right on the edge when his fingertips started to stroke both her arches. It tickled so much! But it hit her at just the right time, as she started to cum.
To Ishyaboo it felt like the tickling amplified her orgasm, multiplying her pleasure beyond all possibility! She was laughing in helplessness, pleasure and joy, with her orgasm not yet subsided when another one hit, then a third and a fourth.
Then she felt Esteban cumming inside of her, roaring his pleasure with a volume that reverberated in the stone room. Ishyaboo’s physical pleasure was compounded by the soaring emotional joy of knowing that she was now giving her man pleasure in return for that which he was still giving her!
“Yes!” She thought; “Yes! Take me! Own me! Enjoy me! Love me, my man, my owner, my lover, my warrior god! I am yours!”
Esteban was utterly lost in the pleasure this beautiful woman was giving him. It had never occurred to him that he might find a woman who enjoyed being tickled as much as he enjoyed tickling her! Somehow, the fact that she loved what he did to her as much as he loved doing it only increased the pleasure it gave him. This was by far the best sex he had ever had!
Both lovers satisfied, Esteban unwrapped the cloths from her sweetly formed limbs and gathered her up against himself. Ishyaboo eagerly, happily cuddled until they both slept in happy exhaustion.
The next morning, Ishyaboo’s father, accompanied by all the fighting men of her town and it’s neighbors, stood outside the gate of the fort. Ishyaboo had told Esteban of the bride stealing customs of her people, and he had warned his men to take no hostile action.
Ishyaboo’s father called Esteban forth. The gates grandly opened, Revealing Esteban in the full glory of brightly colored, gold brocaded court regalia. He stood arms akimbo.
The native chief called out; “I have come here for my daughter!”
Esteban answered; “Your daughter is here, free to come or to go as she chooses!”
Ishyaboo appeared, dressed in a native ceremonial robe, from the left of the open gateway. She walked to Esteban’s side, swaying seductively. Taking his burly left arm in both hands, Ishyaboo pressed it against her front, between her breasts. She called out, loudly so all could hear; “I am his. He has made me his own. I am where I belong, at his side, and will stay here forever!”
Her father and brothers all threw down their weapons and rushed forward, making a massive group embrace.
End.
As always, comments and/or illustrations are welcome.
Mastertank1
We who play and dance are thought mad by they who hear no music.
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